The Song Of Onyx
by The Sound Of Silver
Summary: General Tsun was not a watcher. She craved being the action force in her life and others. She would not be told what to do. But here she was, watching her home being invaded by her enemy, her power being stripped by her king, and her heart being stolen by the man she hated.
1. Prologue Last Words

**A world at war.**

 **A kingdom divided.**

 **Once, in the world of Eos, Angels watched over humanity, guiding them on the road to peace and prosperity and blessed them with the knowledge of magic. But soon, the Angels departed the world and left mortals behind.**

 **And then, war tore the world in half.**

 **For hundreds of years, Eos knew only fire and bloodshed. When the dust settled, three kingdoms rose from the ash, the kingdom of Tenabrae to the north, the Lucian Federation of the east and the Nephilim Empire rising in the west.**

 **In the present day Eos, in the Lucian Federation, the thirty member Congress serves as the unified ruling party. However, behind closed doors and under the threat of a holy war, the Congress is deeply divided. When the ailing War Minister Nethanel Barkas suddenly dies, a member of the fractured Congress must take his place.**

 **General Alloradora Tsun is a candidate for War Minister; the implications of such a position feeds her reluctance to take the seat. And as peace talks unravel, members of the Congress are assassinated, and civil unrest brews, she might soon die either way.**

 **An old friend of Allora's, Nyx Ulric, is her last line of defense and fears for her safety as more members begin to die. By any means, he will protect the general. Even if he has to eliminate her rivals, one by one.**

 **A world doused in fuel.**

 **A spark of rebellion.**

 **A war to burn.**

 **(Final Fantasy XV slight AU)**

 **Hello! I'm Silver, a fanfiction writer and a huge FF fan! :D(uh) Recently, I fell in deepest love with Nyx (best husband) and was like, man I have to write about this. Sadly, there is no FFXV section on our beloved site as of yet, I cry. So when it comes, I'll move this fiction to the proper channels. Yup yup.**

 **So, to answer a burning question, "no". Alloradora is not a self insert of myself, despite being an OC. She was created out of a void I noticed. How many older OCs and characters have you seen in fiction and roleplays and such? I wanted someone who would be mature already and have a different set of challenges from someone who is 20 years old.**

 **ALL OF THE OCS SERVE A PURPOSE, THEY ARE NOT RANDOM INSERTS.**

 **^That was super, duper important.***

 **On ao3, a site I'm not used to, the summary is different and I had to edit a bit of it down, so I posted it in the end notes. Yay, rambling. Also, I have no idea how to work this system, so I will be testing out a bunch of formats to make the story look the best.**

 **Now the reason why this is an AU is simple. I can't get a full feel of the universe from Wiki articles and I haven't seen the movie, aside from the first 12 minutes(they don't show it here in Florida kill me). So to avoid having to heavily retcon in the future, I made this an AU. I hope this doesn't turn you off to the concept.**

 **Well, this rambling author's note has gone on for far too long. So welcome to the story and I hope you enjoy~**

 **Pairings: Nyx/OC, Noctis/Luna(Stella?)/Aranea, more to come, Regis/OC. (I'm trash, I know)**

 **(Come on, Fanfiction. Just make an FFXV section already!)**

 ***Also super, duper important: also posted on, archive of our own (TheSoundOfSilver, story: The Song Of Onyx) fanfictionnet (TheSoundOfSilver, story: The Song Of Onyx) and Wattpad ( TheSoundOfSilver, story: The Song Of Onyx)**

 **I am not creative sometimes :**

 **Prologue. Last Words**

* * *

'Don't be dead. Don't be dead. Etro, help me, don't be dead.' The grey haired woman prayed to every God and Goddess she knew as she hurried up the steps, her arms wrapped around her torso to keep her body heat intact. Still, she shivered as frozen bullets of rain pelted her back and head.

"General Tsun!" The secretary called from several steps behind, holding an umbrella out for her superior. "Please, slow down!"

General Tsun turned her head once but continued into the building. Once inside, she shook her hair out and fished her glasses out of her pocket before making strides to the elevator.

Panting lightly, the secretary caught up. Her short, curly black hair frizzed around her dark-skinned cheeks and dripped water. "..." She watched as her general hesitated with the elevator functions before reaching over and touching the pad. "Floor twenty-three, General Tsun." She reminded.

"Right...right." She leaned against the wall, her eyes shut as the doors hissed closed.

They rode the first four floors in silence.

General Tsun's secretary finally spoke. "I can't believe the War Minster is dying...and now of all times."

Tsun gave her a shrewd look. "He's an old man. It's not like he's choosing to die."

Her secretary blushed at her inconsideration. "R-right. I just mean..."

"Yes, I agree." Tsun watched the numbers get higher. "Now isn't the time." She turned her head to face the younger woman again. Her secretary nodded firmly and straitened her posture. She adjusted her glasses and tablet with professional purpose.

A cheery, how inappropriate considering the situation, tone sounded as they approached the final floor.

General Tsun clasped her hands behind her back and took a sharp inhale through her nose. Her secretary took note of the gesture and knew that her superior was mentally preparing herself for whatever would happen next.

The silver doors parted and General Tsun stepped out, followed by her secretary. Their shoes, flats on her secretary and the heeled boots of the general, sounded off on the smooth marble floors. This floor was quiet. Peaceful.

It filled her with dread. Maybe she was too late...the call had come in so suddenly, and his home was on the other side of the quarter...

At the end of the hall, stationed by two deep mahogany doors, several assorted guards gave her a short bow before opening the way.

"Stay here." Tsun said, putting a hand on her secretary's shoulder.

She nodded and stood over to the side. "I'll be here."

The inside of the home was dimly lit in reverence, sparse candles burning around the apartment. She smelled incense wafting from a bedroom. Tsun followed the smell of jasmine to the War Minster's deathbed.

She had met Nethanel Barkas twice before; her long career in politics assured their meetings. He was a man advanced in his age, but he had seemed to have such a presence; his position demanded it.

She had to search for him now, a lone figure on the bed. His grey hair trailed on his pillows, his chest rising and falling inconsistently. A drip was connected to a thin, frail limb, feeding him nutrients as he wasted away, his body incapable of processing them.

Clustered around him was his family, close friends and allies. Something felt reverent, sacred about being allowed to be here in such an important man's final moments.

It also meant that she knew that Barkas considered her an ally. The implications of this...

Deep grey eyes locked on her from behind heavy lids.

His voice seemed to come from beyond the grave. "General..."

All eyes turned to her.

She was startled, but her pride would never allow her to show it. She bowed respectfully, her arms at her sides. "War Minster Barkas. May the Goddess guide you."

'May the Goddess guide you,' a phrase spoken to the dead and dying. A prayer for Etro to take a soul in peace.

He chuckled ruefully, which quickly collapsed into coughs. His great granddaughter supported his chest so he didn't heave.

"You...you've done much...in a short time...General Tsun." He blinked slowly, trying his damnedest to focus on the blurring shape of a grey haired woman. Another fit of coughing.

She didn't say anything; what could she say?

He continued on. "War is unavoidable...my position is a necessity. The king. The Federation itself... We are at war, even if not officially.

"I would feel peace...knowing that someone less...politically inclined took my place."

Her posture stiffened. "Y-you want...I...War Minister..."

 _'No.'_ She screamed internally. _'No.'_

He wheezed again. She winced.

"You have the political strength...the backing...in an election...you could win..."

"...Yes..." She hesitantly said, feeling guilt creep deeply into her insides. "I will strive for this position."

His lips formed a weak smile.

"Thank you...General Tsun."


	2. I A World Without

**I. A World Without**

* * *

He tapped his phone against his thigh rapidly, drumming his feet against the floor. His anxiety was that of a child during the holidays, but magnified to a thousand.

"You look like an expectant dad." Crowe snickered, leaning on his shoulder.

He spared the brunette a glance. "Basically I am. I'm about to be assigned to a person who I have to protect for most of the foreseeable future and who will annoy the shit out of me."

"That's a harsh way to look at parenthood." She pointed out. "You know, for some people, kids are the best thing in life."

Nyx smirked at her, his eyes devilish. "What do you want, Crowe?"

"I came to wish you good luck." She sighed as she plopped in the chair next to him. "Good luck, you big baby." Crowe crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him.

Nyx snorted uncontrollably. "You look ridiculous." He chuckled.

"Aw, thanks. I did it just for you."

They fell silent.

"This is good, y'know?" Crowe muttered after a moment. "I'm glad they're reassigning you again. You were just lying around for a while."

He was a touch rueful about that. "I wasn't, 'lying around'. I was working."

Her face said everything. 'You are so full of shit, it's hilariously sad.'

"Wha-don't look at me like that." Nyx nudged her face away from him. "...so what if I wasn't feeling up to par? I'm back in the game now." To prove this, in some strange way, he rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck in a masculine fashion.

"Right..." Crowe made a face off to the side. "Right, right, right."

Three "right"s in a row. That was never a good sign.

Before he could retort, the door of the office swung open and a dark haired glaive came out, holding a plain envelope in his gloved hands. He nodded to Nyx and Crowe before departing down the hall.

The woman stood with a grunt. "I'll see you later, alright, Nyx?" She gave him a small, genuine smile and a squeeze on the shoulder before dashing off to her own work.

"Come on in, Ulric." Captain Dreyfus said, appearing in the doorway, his small stature deceiving his true age. Nyx stood and followed him inside.

The office was much like the captain who owned it, small, cluttered and prematurely balding in spots. Files on every Kingsglaive to ever serve were stacked haphazardly against the wall in various forms of media; a museum of technological advancements lined the room from cabinets of paper to the more modern tablets crammed into shelves. A file on Nyx himself was somewhere in this abyss.

"This place gets more crowded with crap each time I come here." Nyx commented as he moved some stack of something to the side to sit in the rickety chair across from Dreyfus. The chair wobbled, one leg too high.

Dreyfus sniffed and reached for an envelope on his desk. "You've been here twice in your life, counting now."

Nyx shrugged.

"Well, I assume you understand the terms of your reassignment." The short man said, narrowing his eyes on the envelope and Nyx in turn. "So I won't mince words. Don't screw up. And no take backs." Slowly, as if he was feeding a vicious, coiled snake, he handed Nyx the envelope.

Nyx gave him a curious look at his choice of last words but took the offered item.

He cracked the red seal on the envelope and took the first paper inside. A slim photograph of the one he was to protect.

His face said everything he couldn't utter to a superior or young child.

He breathed sharply through his nose, air coming out in shallow pants.

"Hell. No." He half flung, half hurled it back at Dreyfus.

"I told you, 'no take backs'." Dreyfus said, catching it and handing back to him. "You were randomly assigned to them. I don't know who you got, but I can guess."

"No. Not happening. I would sooner stab myself with a spoon." Nyx crossed his arms defiantly.

"Want to bet?"

...

The voice came from beyond her door.

"General Tsun? Are you awake?"

General Alloradora Tsun rubbed her eyes and asked herself that question a few times before replying: "Yes." She sat up in bed, her vision deplorable, and reached for the thin wired glasses she wore.

The door to her bedroom opened and her loyal secretary, Taiji Molnero, peeked in. When she was assured that Allora wasn't nude, she strode into the room, the lights coming on as she did. "Good morning, General. This morning is the War Minster's funeral procession and afterwards, your Glaive will pick you up and take you to your office. I imagine that once there, you will have a number of new reports from several of our different sources who keep watch on Tenabrae and the Empire."

Allora made a face at the word "Glaive".

Taiji took a short breath, scrolled through her tablet and continued: "Also, several proposals of alliance have come from other congressional camps. They wish to get you on their side as the election for War Minster gets underway."

Running through each of those items mentally, Allora went into her closet. It was sparsely populated thing, her clothes hardly taking up any of the immense square footage that was dedicated to them. She had her darkly colored uniforms, a few things for around her house and a nearly new dress here and there. She attributed this uncluttered, simpleness as a metaphor for her soldier training and mentality.

"They want an impossible quantity out of me." She called out as she removed a white shirt and well-fitting black pants from a hangar. "Anything else?"

"I imagine that a number of these alliances will come with meetings from the members of said camps." Taiji said.

"Hmp." Allora draped the black coat that went to her knees over her shoulders and slipped her arms in, pulling her grey hair out of her collar. "Another late night. But that's unimportant as of right now. Focusing on this morning. The funeral."

Taiji scrolled back up. "Yes, it begins at 9 o'clock. That gives us thirty minutes to arrive. Your temporary guard will transport us and then that thing I said about your permanent Glaive?"

"Yes, yes." Allora waved nonchalantly at the younger woman as she came out of the closet, fully dressed. She gripped her hair in one hand and twisted it into a long rope before rolling it into a bun and securing it with a hairpin.

Her secretary frowned slightly. "You're wearing that?"

"It's my uniform. What's wrong with it?"

Taiji sighed. "It's just...this is an important function, General Tsun. You looked dressed for war, not the message we want to give off."

"I am a general. The Federation is basically at war. I'm confused as to how this is improper." Allora crossed her arms.

A deep sigh. "That's what you wear everyday."

"It's unimportant." Allora finally said. "We're going to be late for the funeral and that will be worse than my apparent disregard for the War Minster."

"Just put on a dress or something," Taiji dragged out her "G" as she chased after her general. "You look like this is a normal day at the office."

Allora turned to face her, a look of sarcastic questioning on her face. "Do I have the luxury of having a position that doesn't require me to constantly look severe?"

"No, I suppose not." Taiji took a breath, calming her frazzled nerves. "I'm just thinking ahead."

"As am I, Taiji. It's a difficult time for us, and now we have another complication: this War Minster mess." Allora walked with her to the elevator. "Perhaps it's time I make my leave of this whole business and run as far as I can from Nephilim."

"...You're joking."

Allora said nothing in response, her brow slightly creases as she pondered a question that she had asked herself.

...

His right arm had a twitch.

It wasn't something he was born with or something that came out of boredom or adrenaline. It was an old injury somewhere in his muscles, his nerves, his brain. Whenever he had to stand for too long with his arms stagnant, his right arm would twitch. Nothing too huge, but if someone stared too long they'd notice him holding his right arm a bit stiffer than the left, trying to keep it under control.

Why someone would be staring at him for that long made him uncomfortable, so he made himself appear as statuesque as possible. Nothing to judge...right?

Could they hear his blasphemous thoughts inside the grand temple? Could they see it on his face as, one by one, faux grieving congressmen weeped for the cameras covering the funeral of the War Minster(a man most saw as objectionable)? The picketers being held back by the City Guard could probably see it. Shit, they weren't supposed to notice him. What was the saying again? Guards didn't look, hear or see? They weren't seen. They blended into the background like a potted plant. No one ever thought the plant had emotions or thoughts; the plant wasn't seen. He was seen. The look on his face made him impossible to ignore.

"Nyx, what the hell is wrong with your face?" Dreyfus asked from over a private commlink. "You look like you're about to punch someone."

Nyx's face did another unpleasant maneuver, but only for a moment. He swallowed, tasting cotton in his mouth. "I'm...nervous." Like hell, the liar.

A staticky sigh. "Your eyes, Nyx. I can see it from here. You make people feel safe, not like you're about to stab them."

"That's just my face." He had to say it a bit louder as the protesting crowd seemed to pick up some zeal. Shouts of "Burn the devil queen," seemed to be popular with this particular mob.

"...Etro help me; you and these damn protestors...Oh! Congressman Lian!" The line went dead after that, but Nyx could see Dreyfus at the temple entrance, speaking to a tall, sharply dressed man who had just come from inside. They chatted for a moment before the congressman walked off and was greeted by his Glaive.

"Showtime." Someone said over the com.

Each Glaive had memorized the picture they have been given in that envelope. They watched the doors and moved accordingly to pick up their mark.

Nyx craned his neck to catch a glimpse of grey hair and seeping ego. Tsun also always had a plebeian wannabe advisor following her around, so he looked for her puff of dark hair too.

"That took longer than I thought." Taiji whisper-commented as she walked along General Tsun through the cavernous archchamber of the temple. The sound of their shoes reached the towering, arched ceiling where several effigies of the Goddess blindly gazed downward, their eyes covered.

"Well, since I was dressed so improperly, I didn't want to leave too early as well." Allora joked in the same low voice. Apparently, her outfit choice hadn't been as scandalous as Taiji had thought.

The worrisome secretary pursed her lips.

Allora held back a laugh with a fist against her mouth. "You look like my grandmother." Her face turned serious again. "Well, as soon as we leave, we'll be new tributes in this game. Get your game face, Taiji."

They both adopted the same look, eyes half-lidded, mouths in a placid line, faces betraying nothing.

Stepping into the daylight, instantly Allora went into sensory overload. There was a reverent quiet inside the temple, but outside was a cacophony of varying shouts, from calls of an interview with channel 9 to chants of "devil queen supporter."

"General Tsun!" A fresh faced reporter with bleached blonde hair stuck a microphone far too close to her face. "A few questions, if you can."

"In reverence of War Minster Barkas and his family, not right now, thank you." She replied cordially. "Any questions can be forwarded to my office."

"Where is he...?" She heard Taiji ask. "Where's the Glaive?"

Allora strained her own eyes over the crowd, searching for the distinctive dark uniform of the Kingsglaive. She spotted one, with deep red hair that was tied back in a thick ponytail, and made it about two steps before she sensed someone glaring at her.

Which was strange, considering that almost everyone was glaring at her.

Allora stopped, turned her head and followed her intuition to the person who clearly didn't want to see her. Dark brown eyes, glazed over to hide any emotion and thought; but he put too much energy into his eyes. His body language betrayed his true emotions. If she didn't want to either use the tablet in her hand to dash his face or walk away, she would tell him off about that.

'You aren't here for me,' she wanted to say. Or did she want to say, 'You again? Are you stalking me now?' Maybe even, 'Fix your damn face, you look like a murderer.'

"General Tsun." He said in a dead tone. "I'll be your Glaive. This way."

But she could only stare. The odds...the sick, twisted odds of this. Improbable. Impossible.

He was the last person she wanted to see.

She was the last person he wanted to see.

And yet, here they were, flanked by a crowd of protestors, reporters, congressmen and women, and mourners, staring at the one person in the world they could do without.


End file.
